Pantalone is a sucker for babies
In the Icy countryside of Snezhnaya, a large palatial home stood on miles of property surrounding it. Its owner disliked being disturbed in his solitude, so he'd purchased all the land he could around where he'd built his grand home. Inside this marvel of construction were the most elegant and lovely decorations, the finest paintings, the softest carpets, the best furniture, and the most tasteful of decorations.
The palace had cost millions to build and decorate to its inhabitant's liking, it was grand and opulent, yet remaining tasteful and elegant and refined with its splendor. This was the home of Pantalone the 9th of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa's Harbinger's also known as Regrator to those unfortunate enough to cross the shrewd bank owner. Pantalone sat in the private office of his estate, his silver-framed glasses slipping down his nose as he wrote the last of his reports, yawning every so often.
It was late in the evening, almost 11, and it was nearing time for him to retire for the night when he heard first heard the sound... Pantalone paused his writing, quietly setting aside his quill and listening intently....just as he was about to attribute it to his tiered mind playing tricks...there it was again. "Pantalone..." His name, someone was calling his name from inside the house.
But that was impossible, only a truly brave fool would even attempt to break into a Harbinger's home. Especially his home. His property was swarmed with Fatui footsoldiers at all times to protect himself and the interests of the Northland Bank. Pantalone stood carefully to avoid making a single sound and as quietly as an artic wolf prowled towards the door to his office.
The door opened without a sound and he slipped out, his gun held comfortably in his dominant hand ready to shoot dead the first thing that moved. The hallway was quiet as a graveyard and nearly as dark as one, the only light coming from the moon that shone through the multiple windows on both sides of the hall.
"Pantalone..."
The voice made all the hair on his body stand at attention, it was a quiet almost inaudible whisper but it may as well have been a gunshot in the silence of his home. Pantalone crept quietly and slowly down towards the doors at the end of the hall that was cracked open and seemed to be the place where the voice was emanating from... His bedroom...
He edged the door further open with the toe of his boot, and as it opened he caught sight of his uninvited guest. He couldn't tell their gender, they wore a long black cloak that seemed to blend in perfectly with the shadows thrown by the lit fireplace. The hood of the cloak hid their face perfectly, but it did not hide what they held cradled in their arms. A babe, tiny, young, and so utterly helpless.
"Pantalone..."
Now that he could hear the voice his head throbbed painfully right behind his eyes, the voice was layered. The voices of young and old, the rough baritones of men, and the soothing sighs of women spoke as one. Still as if compelled by his instincts, he raised the gun in his hand and he fired a single shot that should have gone right through the trespasser's head. But the ... person raised a single finger and flicked away the bullet as if it were an irksome gadfly. Pantalone stared a moment before he gathered himself again.
"Well... that was unexpected." A wheezing cackle, like one produced by a dying old man, came from the hooded figure, "Indeed. I apologize for the late meeting, as well as the trespassing." Pantalone did not lower the gun, "Give me a reason I shouldn't arrest you." Another wheezing cackle, this one more feminine, "because you couldn't." Pantalone arched a brow, "And why not?"
"No prision you could ever construct could hold me, no chains could keep me, no walls imprison me." A chill ran down Pantalone's back as the figure spoke. "Who...What are you? Are you an adeptus?" Another cackle, "I have had many names over the Eons , Azrael, Osirus, Hela, Hades, Thanatos are just a few, you may call me Death." Pantalone's grip on his gun slackened in his shock before it tightened again. "You are claiming to be the god of Death?"
"No, not a god child, I am a cosmic being, an eternal entity that controls and manages all matters concerning death." This time Pantalone's gun slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor as this being's head lifted and allowed Pantalone to look into the hood and see their face. It was too beautiful, too perfect to ever be considered anywhere near human or mortal. Their eyes were so beautiful, one was the deep darkness of the celestial void the other was starlight, white and glowing.
"You are beautiful." Death was taken aback, Mortals had found them terrifying, intriguing, disgusting, and monstrous. But never beautiful. "I... I am flattered?" Death observed the man that was going to be Harry's new father, he was beautiful as far as mortals went. Aristocratic cheekbones, ice blue eyes framed in thick dark lashes, long dark blue tresses that fell down his back in waves, and loose curls.
Death cleared their throat and shook themself mentally, this was not what they were there for. Death stood and stood before Pantalone, Harry held tightly in their arms. "I have a favor to ask of you... more of a job to bestow." Pantalone arched his brow, "And that is?" "I must ask you to raise this -my, my child." Pantalone mind stalled for a moment before he blinked at the being.
"What?" "Please, just listen to me, hear me out before you make a decision one way or the other." Pantalone sat across from the being, "Okay I will listen." Death sighed and sat back down, "thank you. I know I am asking you for quite a large favor, and this will change your life if you agree. But please, Harry has no one except me and I must find someone to raise him for me." "Why can you not raise him?" "Harry is a living being, and the living are unable to live in the realm of death. Visit yes, continuous stay? No."
"Harry is a Necromancer and able to commune with the dead as he does the living, he belongs to death, to me, he is my child." Pantalone sat back crossing his legs, "what are Necromancer's?" "They are eceptionally powerful magic weilders, they preform acts that can bend reality to suit them. They have the ability to summon the spirits of the deceased, they can cross the veil betwixt the lands of the living and the dead, even travel between worlds."
"They can cross lines that normal mortals cannot even dream of, even some gods struggle with the powers Necromancers wield." Pantalone stared at Death as the being sighed, "Unfortunately all of that means necromancers have been the source of hatred and scorn." Pantalone sat up a little straighter, "Of course, if your necromancers are as incredibly powerful as you claim, they would be targets of jealousy, anger, and fearmongering."
"Indeed, that's why my children have been hunted into extinction by those who hated them, who were jealous of them, and those who feared them." "And so you wanted someone to keep him safe," "I want someone to love my child, to give him the life he deserves, to protect him and raise him to be strong, powerful, and able to succeed." "But why me? There are others surely?"
"Harry is the heir to three lordships, possibly more, and their massive massive wealth, Harry is a very very wealthy young man." Suddenly things made even more sense for Pantalone, "ah that is the reason you've come to me." "Yes, I wish for you to teach Harry everything you know." Pantalone arched his brow again, "everything?" A smirk crossed Death's beautiful face, "oh yes everything."
"I want you to teach Harry to protect himself and to make him into a man to be feared and respected, to teach him to maintain and grow his massive fortune. But I also want you to love him, I want you to be his father and his teacher." Pantalone sat there for several moments, thinking, turning everything over in his head. He weighed the pros and cons, the good and the bad that could come from this. Pantalone had always said he'd never wanted children, said that he'd never had the desire to be a father.
But, in reality, he had truly always wanted to be a father, to raise a child of his own, be they blood or not. As he turned the thoughts over in his mind, he felt a weight settle into his arms as the small Emerald-eyed baby was settled into his arms. Pantalone smiled down at the innocent baby in his arms as their chubby arms reached up and tried to grab his glasses and his nose.
He was officially lost, this baby owned his heart now, and may the gods have mercy on any being who attempted to harm him.